


Etiquette

by Dogwood



Series: More Than Most [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5744788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogwood/pseuds/Dogwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josephine sends Lavellan a distasteful book on Orlesian customs in preparation for the peace talks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Etiquette

“Solas. Would you like for me to read a page from this excellent book Josephine sent up?”

Lavellan made a show of displaying the cover for him - a deep purple background with an embroidered Orlesian mask, the words ‘Mastering Orlesian Etiquette’ flowing in gold cursive across the front.

“With such an introduction, how could I resist." 

He was seated on the couch by the stairs, the light from Skyhold’s stained glass spilling across the floor and over the small stack of books he’d brought to her room to peruse. He straightened and put his current book - ‘A Complete History of Dwarven Paragons’ - in his lap.

"You’re very patient,” Lavellan said, brows lifting in gratitude, and sat herself on the edge of the bed as she skimmed over chapter summaries. She was on the hunt for just the right amount of ridiculous, something to add some levity to a day mired in small stresses.

She found it in chapter nine, and lifted a scholarly finger.

“ _'Pursuing a noble paramour is a most lofty and ambitious goal, but certainly not impossible. Lovers of noble birth provide many benefits, from elevated social status to educated conversation to fine clothing and summer estates. The following chapter will discuss the finer points of seduction, from first impressions and coy flirtations, to navigating or altogether avoiding wives or husbands.'_ ”

She paused, eyes darting across the page. “Just in case you were wondering though, lethallin, ’ _Pursuing a paramour from a lesser house is not advised and will not be covered in this book’_.”

She settled against the wooden headboard, her focus intent on the pages. “If nothing else, the Orlesian court sounds…”

“Irresponsible? Casually cruel? Strangely compelling?”

“I was going to say _exhausting_ but you do have a way with words.”

Unlike the former chapter, the next - a long list of titles and honorifics - was quite relevant, and Josephine had helpfully written notes in the margins, circling important titles and crossing out those that were no longer applicable. Even with her alterations, however, the list was intimidatingly robust, and as she turned the pages the furrow on her brow deepened.

“This book was clearly not written with elves in mind,” she muttered.

“What makes you say that? Besides the implication that the writer is speaking to one socially capable of becoming a noble’s official paramour?”

She touched her tongue to her top lip, scanning the text. When she read, her voice was clear and crisp, clipped with anger.

“ _’Poaching servants is to be avoided when possible, especially if the servant has been with the family for some time, or is human. Elven servants have little loyalty, and their departures, while not cause for scandal, may irritate.’_ This author is despicable.”

“Are you surprised?”

“I’m surprised Josephine missed this page. The last book had a number of suspicious pages cut from the bindings.”

They fell into a companionable silence as they continued their afternoon reading - part of a mandatory break Josephine had implemented, though when her advisor had sent up the text for some light reading, it was clear her free time would be anything but.

She made it through Opera Etiquette and Graceful Recoveries after a Misstep, and eventually found herself on a page with quick tips for formal dinners.

“ _'Never drain your glass. It is imperative to have some wine available for raising a toast.” '_ Her sigh was enough to cause Solas to set his book to the side and make his way to her bedside.

“For the Inquisition,” she said as he leaned in to read, her skin prickling at his proximity, at the faint scent of paint that she could make out on his clothes. “Josephine warned me to skim over the romance diagrams, but if you’d like to see some stilted, passionless drawings of how to navigate human petticoats, they start on page 134.”

“I’m well versed,” he said, reaching over to turn a page, and whether he was joking or not she had no way of knowing, for he carried on, the picture of composure. “May I borrow this when you’ve finished with it?”

She looked up, surprised. “Of course, though… why?”

“It certainly couldn’t hurt, and I plan on attending the ball as well.”

“You are?”

“Unless you’d rather me here.”

“No, no of course not,” she said, the words stumbling over themselves to get out. “I would appreciate the company, Solas. And your insight into the court.”

He smiled and left her side momentarily to retrieve his book. “May I join you?” 

She tilted her head, wondering at his meaning, but he clarified, gesturing to the empty side of the bed with his dusty Dwarven tome. Despite herself, she felt a heat creeping up her cheeks, which she attempted to banish with a smile and a welcoming pat to the covers. “My ridiculous tower is your ridiculous tower.”

He settled in next to her, almost close enough to touch. Their legs stretched out on the bed, and her feet, still in her soft leather boots, came to the top of his bare ankles. 

She leaned sideways, resting her head against his shoulder and opening her book to chapter five, Minimizing Rumours. 

“Tell me if you’re uncomfortable,” she said, glancing upwards.

“I am the furthest thing from it.”


End file.
